


A Visit From Saint Nick

by notacute



Category: The IT Crowd
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notacute/pseuds/notacute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both stuck working on Christmas Eve, Moss and Roy recieve an unexpected visit from Santa Claus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Visit From Saint Nick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dien/gifts).



In one corner of a small basement IT office, there was a partially decorated Christmas tree. Only partially so, because in the middle of decorating it, the employees of this said small basement IT department had found themselves embroiled in a heated argument. It was an argument for the ages.

"No, no. It's not 'bough' like 'bow', it's 'bough' like a shelf." Moss explained, an ornament in the shape of a tiny Death Star still in one hand. He hadn't minded having to work on Christmas Eve at first, despite the fact that the only reason he'd gotten stuck helping Roy with end of the year paperwork because he'd lost a bet. Moss has finished his own days ago.

"Deck the halls with shelves of holly? How does that even make any sense?" Roy argued, from a spot near his desk. He'd since given up on the decorations as well, more interested in how the hell Moss thought holly had shelves than in hanging bits of garland and string. Neither of them would even be in the office again until the New Year anyway. "Holly doesn't have shelves. It's just little green branches."

"Well, I didn't write the song, Roy."

"Look, maybe we should just get back to work, or we're going to be here all night." Roy responded, instead of arguing the matter further. He went back to his desk, opening up his spreadsheet to get started. He looked at the words and numbers for a long moment, set his fingers on the home row keys, then sighed. "I don't get why Jen couldn't just do all this." He complained, sitting back in his chair, "We're the computer guys and she's supposed to take care of all of the lists and faxes and meetings and I'd really just rather be in a pub or something."

"Really?" Moss asked, both offended and taken aback. He hung a string of silver garland on one of the tree's bare spots.

"Yes, really."

"Really?!" Moss asked again, louder and more offended.

"That's why I said it the first time, Moss."

"But it's Christmas Eve! You're supposed to be at home with a glass of warm milk and cookies, while your mum reads from that weird bit of the bible."

Roy stared, dumbfounded.

"Your mum does that?"

"Yes, it's a bit weird, but it's tradition!" said Moss. Pajamas, a roaring fire and those weird sort of awkward silences? That was Christmas to Moss. He could practically smell the freshly-baked cookies now.

"I'd still much rather spend it in a pub." Roy said, not the least bit convinced. He typed a few characters and then found himself bored with the whole thing all over again. Work was a lot easier when he could set up a tape recorder to ask people if they'd tried turning it on and off again. Last year he'd gotten out of end of the year paperwork, but this time, Jen had been fairly adamant about it being done before he went on holiday.

If Roy had thought his job would require actual work, he might've stayed in food service, He couldn't remember ever doing a lick of work back then.

"Fine." Moss said, and pouting, went back to his own computer, "If you want to be a Scrooge, I'm not going to stand in your way." His fingers moved rapidly over the keys even as his face held a permanent pout.

"Just because my mum doesn't sit around reading me weird bits of the bible on Christmas eve doesn't make me a Scrooge." Roy protested.

"It does! Sitting around dank pubs by yourself, pretending to know how football works isn't Christmas, it's just creepy." At this point, Moss had stopped working as well.

"Fine! I'm a Scrooge! Scroogey McScrooge! If that's what you want to call me, then that's what I am!" Roy replied.

"Right!"

"Fine!" Roy then went back to typing, only getting two words or so in before his eyes started rolling back in his head and he found himself nearly bored to tears by the whole process. "This still means you're going to help, right?"

However, before Moss could answer, the heavy door of the IT office flew open, kicked by an intruder. He was rather hefty, bearded, and wearing nearly all red. From the looks of him, he might've spent the last few nights in someone's gutter. But perhaps, if you squinted, or had some sort of astigmatism, he might have looked a little like...

"Santa!" Moss enthusiastically exclaimed, hopping to his feet. Roy hopped to his feet as well, though somewhat less enthusiastically, considering one of the first things he noticed was the gun that the man was holding. The security in the building was lax during the holidays, and even more so on a night like Christmas eve, when the two of them were likely the only people left in the entire building.

"Empty your pockets," the man demanded, waving the gun about unsteadily.

"I'm...not so sure that's Santa." Roy said, backing away a bit. Times like this, it would really have been handy to be a Jedi warrior. Or a badass bounty hunter like Boba Fett. Or even a smuggler like Han Solo, because at least then, he'd have a blaster handy. God, he wished his life was like Star Wars. "Look, we haven't got any money. I mean, I've got about three quid, but you don't really want that, do you?"

"Of course he does!" Moss said, and immediately began emptying his own pockets and handing the contents over. "Sorry, I've only got about two hundred. I hope that's enough."

From across the room where, up until a moment ago, Roy had looked like he was mostly scared shitless, Roy blinked in surprise.

"Where'd you get two hundred quid?"

"I have a life outside of here, you know." Moss protested.

Santa, growing impatient by Moss and Roy's argument, pointed his gun at Roy. "You there. Empty your pockets as well."

Roy hesitated, hand in his pocket and wrapped around his wallet. Sure, he only had a few quid, but he'd been planning to spend all that down at the pub. Or maybe on a lady, on the off chance he met one while he was there. He was sure there'd be some other poor sod with nowhere else to go on Christmas Eve.

"Is this really in the Christmas spirit?" Roy asked, deciding not to empty his pockets, "It's Christmas eve! Shouldn't we all be holding hands and singing 'Silent Night?' Eating milk and cookies while our mums read us the weird bits of the bible?"

There was a long and awkward silence.

"Your mum does that?" Santa asked.

"His does," Roy said, gesturing over to Moss, who nodded. Santa looked slightly disturbed by the idea, "But what do you need our money for anyway?"

"Stop arguing with Santa!" Moss exclaimed, "Even if his breath does smell like vodka, cranberry and some other sort of distilled liquor, and he probably shouldn't be taking such a long break to talk to us when he's got the entire world to get to."

"You'd better listen to your little friend there." Santa said, "Don't think I won't use this!"

"Santa will fuck you up!" Moss agreed.

"Here! Fine! Take it!" Roy finally said, and tossed his wallet across the room. Santa bent over to pick it up, and no sooner had he done so than he found himself whacked over the head with a Guitar Hero controller.

Roy stood in stunned silence as Moss held the weapon over his head.

"What-- what happened to..."

"That wasn't Santa at all!" Moss said, triumphant. "It was all a part of my elaborate ruse!"

"So you knew you were going to do that all along? Couldn't you have given me some sort of signal or something? I nearly shit myself!" Roy asked, beyond annoyed just then.

"If I had, then he would have seen it, you would have screwed it up, and you never would have learned the true meaning of Christmas."

"About sitting round with cookies while your mother reads you the weird bits of the bible?"

"Exactly."

Dumbfounded, Roy wasn't sure exactly what else there was to say. He'd gotten used to Moss since they'd been working together in IT, and even if he might have been a bit weirder than every Roy himself was, sometimes, they were really all each other had. Even on Christmas Eve when there was a strange looking bum who slightly resembled Saint Nicholas sprawled out on the floor of IT.

Roy sighed.

"Happy Christmas, Moss."

"Happy Christmas, Roy."


End file.
